(Sung to the tune of "Chattanooga Choo Choo")
Pardon Me, Boys,
Is that the LindsayBritneyParis?
All clubbing at Hyde,
Boy, can you get me inside?
I want to see…when they start dancing on the tables,
Snorting up Coke,
Or maybe taking a toke.
They cause immediate sensation when they go on the town,
The paparazzi treat them like they’re some kind of clown,
Photos are a mainstay,
Even of Vajajay,
Nothing is off limits with these girls around.
When the party’s over and they go to their cars,
Inebriated bodies that won’t get very far,
Someone drops a doobie,
Someone shows her booby,
Boy, these girls are better than a stripper bar.
They’ve gotta be…the favorite train wreck of the nation,
Six o’clock News,
Their stories give me the blues.
Hearing them speak, you’ll think they all came from the same damn clone,
Oh LindsayBritneyParis, won’t you please just stay home?